1982
"He did what?!"
"MOVE, YOU IDIOT!"
The three made their way down the street as quickly as their feet could carry them, the thought of what was behind them propelling them further and faster. The loud wrenching of the metal making them move yet faster.
"JESUS CHRIST!"
"Richard!"
"It's too late for him! Keep moving!" The two remaining tried not to listen to the soul-piercing shrieking of their comrade, begging for help as crack after sickening crack was heard in place of the metal crushing from seconds before. "We just have to get back to my haven. I have a ward up, we can-"
"MARION!" Marion fell back against the brick wall of a building as she watched the second member of her remaining coterie being pulled into the darkness, the street lamp above flickering wildly and then winking out as that ever-present shadow loomed closer and closer to her being...it was so close it was almost touching her leg.
So close...so very, very close...
2018
Marion closed the tome she had been reading from.
"Yes, I'm afraid there's nothing for it." She said. "I've tangled with this man before. It will have to be a group effort."
"There's no ritual you have to deal with Oblivion?"
"No, Anthony. Not for Oblivion." The Tremere ancilla sighed as she set the tome aside.
"Who is he? Why would he take over one of your havens if not to steal things?" Anthony asked. "If I were him, that's why I'd be taking over a Tremere's haven."
"That's not it, no." Marion said. "He has...other vendettas."
"I usually don't go for coffee."
"Really? In Seattle? Why's that?" Angel leaning over the table slightly looking at her date. Was it safe to call this a date? It was just coffee, after all, right?
"I'm more of a tea drinker." Ben Grayson said. He was something to behold. Looking at him, Angel was reminded a lot of her father's old record albums displaying bands like Bon Jovi or Def Leppard - bands with a ridiculous amount of hair. It was almost as if Ben had come out of that era and had been dropped into the modern day. It was a silly notion, of course, but she admired that he seemed to have his own style.
That, or he just didn't care. That was probably the more likely thing.
"Interesting." Angel smiled. "I suppose you drink a lot of tea in your...what was it you said you did again? Security work?"
"Yeah." Ben nodded. "And uh...no, I don't really drink a lot of tea, no." Her head tilted slightly to the side at his words, perplexed.
"But you said you were a-?"
"Casually." Ben said. "Casually drinking tea."
"Ahhhhh." Angel said, leaning back a little in her chair. "So...only casually, got it!" She laughed.
"Yep. That's me." Ben joined in the laughter. He looked a little less pale than she'd remembered him being. Maybe he'd gotten some sun recently? "So, what'd you think of the movie?"
"Oh, I thought it was great." Angel said. "I mean, completely fictional, but great."
"Well, it's not like they were going to get every detail of Freddie Mercury's life one hundred percent accurate."
"No, but almost that whole thing was fictional. Biopic, my foot!" She laughed.
"Well, still. I think that Rami Malek guy did a pretty good job all things considered." Ben said. "I mean, let's face it, the whole thing was a massive excuse to do Queen karaoke."
"Not that that's a bad thing." Angel said with a raised finger.
"Certainly not." He nodded in agreement. "They have a lot of really good albums. The Game, A Night at the Opera, A Kind of Magic."
"Isn't that the one that's basically just the Highlander soundtrack?"
"All because Flash Gordon bombed." He rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"Never seen it."
"What?" Ben looked surprised. "How have you never seen Flash Gordon?"
"I don't know, I just never have!" Angel laughed at his expression and what almost seemed like exasperation.
"Well, we definitely need to fix that!" Ben said.
"Mr. Grayson, it sounds suspiciously like you're asking me on another date..." Angel smirked wryly at him.
"Well, I, uh-" A sudden tone got the attention of both of them. "Oh, sorry, that's...that's mine..." Ben pulled a cell phone out of his jacket and swiped the screen open. "...crap."
"What is it?" Angel asked.
"I, uh...I have to go. Work." Ben sighed.
"What happened?" Angel asked.
"Someone broke into a property I watch. I have to go file a report." Ben said.
"I'll come with you." Angel said.
"No." Ben said, a little bit more quickly than Angel had expected, the young redhead taken aback. "Sorry, it's...with the police and there's paperwork and it's really boring. I'm sorry to flake out like this, but-"
"You're not flaking out." Angel said, shaking her head. "It's fine."
"Let me at least get you back to your apartment." Ben said.
"Just drop me off at the shelter." Angel said.
"You got it." Ben had quickly texted a message and sent it off before stuffing the phone back into his coat.
At first I was afraid
I was petrified!
Kept thinkin', I could never live without you by my side!
But then I spent so many nights thinkin' how you did me wrong
And I grew strong
And I learned how to get along!
The song coming from the speakers was in sharp contrast to the setting around them. Headstone after gray, dull, worn down headstone all in line as far as the eyes could see. A certain Toreador sat in the back seat of her vehicle, counting the moments.
"Any sign of them?" She asked.
"No, ma'am." Mortimer, her beloved ghoul, sat in the driver's seat. Her other beloved ghoul, Martin, sat in the front passenger side seat, likewise keeping watch.
"Well, I'm tired of waiting. I think I'll go for a walk." Grace said, scooting over toward her door. "Martin, attend me."
"Yes, Mistress." Martin unbuckled his belt and exited his side, opening Grace's door for her and waiting to take her hand.
"Good boy." Grace smiled to her manservant, the man's Blood Bond giving him a feeling that was the apex of joy and pride and it could be read on every part of his face. Grace stepped out of the vehicle fully and onto the grace, moving toward the cobblestone path that led off into the darkened cemetery. As Grace moved, Martin was quick to follow, Mortimer remaining with the vehicle. As she journeyed down the way, she had only one particular grave in mind she wished to visit.
Soon enough, passing a few more stones and a crypt or two, she saw it. Set there in the earth, over a grave that had been cordoned off and yet the grass was still trying to reclaim it, lay a single headstone that detailed a name and dates.
Joseph Fisher
1990 - 2013
"I can't believe it's already been five years..." Grace mused, looking at the cold stone.
"Mistress?" Martin said.
"He would have been your father, you know, Martin." Grace said quietly, her eyes still locked upon the gravestone. The ghoul could almost swear she was about to cry...the crimson liquid beginning to bubble at the edges of her eyes.
"...Mistress? Are you alright?" Martin asked, his face the very picture of concern for his domitor.
"She is fine from where I'm standing!" A voice came from nearby, the pair looking to see a man walking among the headstones toward their location. He was a dark-skinned man in a dark three-piece suit, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket as he approached them. Martin had already drawn his handgun.
"Hold it right the-"
"That's our contact, dear boy." Grace stopped the ghoul with a gesture, her eyes fixing upon the man. Martin slowly lowered his gun, but did not holster it. The Toreador looked upon the man. "Good evening, Marquis."
"Miss Penderghast. Always a pleasure." The man nodded his head respectfully. "I have something for you. Mr. Corwin bid that I deliver it to you. As per my contract with him, I am doing so."
"Alright." Grace nodded. "Let's see it." Marquis pulled from his suit jacket a rectangular shape, holding it up. "Martin. Retrieve it." Martin moved forward, one hand still grasping his gun. Marquis handed it off to his fellow ghoul without issue. When Martin brought it to her, Grace could see it for what it was - a VHS tape.
"Mr. Corwin believed a low tech approach would be best for...confidentiality." Marquis said. "You understand, of course."
"Of course." Grace said, examining the blank label on the tape before looking back to Marquis. "Well, thank you, Marquis. Should you be looking for employment in the near future, feel free to contact me."
"I'm certain that I will soon enough, Miss Penderghast. Good night." Marquis nodded to her once more, backing away the way he had come.
"Martin, I believe it is time for us to go." Grace said. She turned toward the gravestone once more. "Pourrir en enfer." She whispered before turning and leaving with her ghoul, who followed in her wake very confused indeed.
He watched from the shadows of one of the old crypts as Penderghast's car backed out of the cemetery and drove away into the night that had gathered around Seattle. Slowly, Marquis drew another rectangular object from within his suit jacket - this time a cell phone. He dialed a specific number.
"Yes?"
"She has the package, sir."
"Excellent, Marquis. Now we wait for her to make the next move."
"Very good, Mr. White."
Her time since coming into work had been nothing but examining the photos taken at the scene of the latest crime, the third in a precession of them, almost enough to be called a rash. Sybil looked over every photo time and time again, but nothing seemed to be coming together. Another fire bombing. The detective in her was baffled as to why these places were all being bombed out of existence. The Malkavian in her, however, knew well why - they were all Anarch haunts. The dust that had been found in several places, with no seeming explanation for it, had been some members of the movement that had met the Final Death.
Some of them Sybil had even known, given who had and who hadn't been popping up in the last few nights.
She looked over to her office door, still closed. No one would bother her. Surely it wouldn't hurt if she just tried to peek behind the veil a bit. Focusing the vitae in her body, Sybil reached out with her mind, seeking answers in Auspex beyond what her normal senses would allow.
In her mind's eye, she could see them: the three kings on fire dancing around a scaly dragon that looked upon the three with absolute contempt. Her vision swam and pulled away from them, however, looking out over Seattle...on fire, and yet not on fire. In the streets below, however, were scores of people. Men, women, and children, but all had one very distinct feature - in front of their faces, they held up a gorgeously crafted hand mirror. The frames all made of identical polished steel. They had only one flaw - the glass was cracked.
Every single mirror, from the first to the last, was cracked. Reflected in each of those broken mirrors was her face...and a hand upon her shoulder as she looked, it's wrist wrapped in chains that were slowly loosening from around it.
Soon enough, she returned to her place, her time, and her office. Sybil sighed as she realized her vision had revealed to her...nothing. Or, perhaps, a lot. There was no way to know. Or every way to know.
"I really need to go to therapy..." Sybil muttered as she set the photos aside. It seemed she would have to go and check out the sites for herself. Nothing else for it, oh well. She snatched up her keys from the dish on the desk and headed out the door to head out to her car. Taking the stairwell down to the parking garage, Sybil's phone went off and she answered it. "Hello? Dave Grohl Support Line! Courtney Love speaking!"
"The second key is within His grasp...we have to move."
"Hey, I like to move it, move it." Sybil replied, though she was hanging on to every word of the voice on the other end.
"The mirrors are all reflecting you. You need to be careful." The line went dead.
"...damn cell reception." Sybil sighed, her phone ringing again. She picked it up. "Look, Roger L. Jackson, I don't want any more of your vague, foreshadow-y bullshit."
"...what?"
"Oh, sorry, Mr. Crowley."
"Anthony."
"Mr. Crowley."
"...whatever. We need to meet up, Marion wants to call in her favor."
"Oh, goodie! Where are we meeting up?"
Another half hour brought two new Kindred to a bookstore, Golden Dawn Books. Sybil had arrived first, Ben right after her. Sybil noticed the Gangrel the moment he stepped from the shadows.
"Who are you, Batman?" Sybil asked.
"Not if I can help it." Ben said.
"I mean, you technically can do that..."
"Not yet." Ben waved her off as he moved to the door, opening it and gesturing for her to enter first. Sybil did so, stepping in and her eyes passing over all of the various tomes on the shelves. As she did so, Ben moved past her and into the shop. The place seemed to be deserted for the most part, which suited Ben fine. He moved toward the help desk at the back, finding it devoid of life or unlife. He smacked a palm against the bell, causing a loud, sharp ring more as though he'd struck it than rung it.
"In the back!" Marion's voice shouted from that direction. Ben turned and headed that way, opening the slightly ajar door into a backroom where the remains of some sort of ritual circle had been set up but had been likewise cleared up, leaving only some refuse. Questions for later, if ever. "Good, good, glad you're both here."
"Marion." Ben said curtly, regarding both the Tremere (as he also saw Anthony in the room as well) with a nod. "Anthony."
"You say goodbye and I say hello!" Sybil added in, chipper as all get out as she entered in Ben's wake. "Is my bestie here?"
"I called Grace, she didn't pick up." Anthony said.
"Probably too busy." Ben dismissed the notion, grimacing at the thought of what the Toreador might be up to. "I assume you didn't call to chat about the other members of the coterie?"
"Definitely not." Marion said. "I have...encountered a bit of a problem, and I'm calling in the boon I owe you lot for my help with that briefcase."
"Oh, c'mon! It's been like, two years!" Sybil scoffed. Marion stared at the Malkavian for a long moment, and then continued on as if she hadn't heard her at all.
"You do recall the current state Seattle finds itself in? Being one of the few Camarilla cities in the Pacific Northwest?"
"I'm vaguely familiar, yes." Ben replied in a flat tone that one could almost mistake as not being sarcastic.
"Right." Marion hesitated, then continued. "I have...received a visitor from Portland. He's taken up residence in one of my havens."
"So? Kick him out." Sybil shrugged.
"I'm afraid it isn't that simple." Marion elaborated. "He has...certain abilities. They involve the shadows and-"
"A Lasombra?" Ben's expression changed for the first time since entering the room, something resembling disgust. "Why the Hell are you getting a Lasombra visitor?"
"We have...a history." Marion said, not longer meeting his gaze, or the gaze of anyone in the room. "I need him out."
"Then put a stake through his heart and send him out on a barge. What's the problem?" Ben asked. "It's not like someone from the Sabbat can just walk into Seattle and take up a haven."
"Like you did, you mean?" Marion questioned him. Ben shot her an icy glare, but said no more. "Regardless, he's here...and he needs to not be here."
"Well, let's see what we can do." Sybil said. "You said he was in your haven, what's the address?"
"I can take you there." Anthony said.
"I thought Tremere weren't allowed havens outside the Chantry?" Ben asked.
"Only the less privileged of us." Marion said, running a hand through her brunette locks, a bit of a haughty smirk on her lips. "Always good to have a private study tucked away somewhere." Anthony was shooting her a look that she ignored. The younger of the two Tremere gestured for his coterie mates to follow him. "I'll be waiting here."
"You're not coming with us?" Anthony asked.
"I am not." Marion said. "It would not be...appropriate."
"You're scared." Sybil said. "You're scared of him." Marion ignored the Malkavian.
"Scout out the haven, see what he's done with the place. I'm counting on you all." Marion said.
His phone rang. He recognized the number, and he picked up the receiver without hesitation.
"Fabian, my boy!"
"Miss Savona. Good evening." Fabian felt himself straight up in his seat at the sound of her voice, a voice he had become more accustomed to hearing.
"Good evening to you." Fiorenza Savona spoke. "I am given to understand that you have granted a spot upon the Board of your city. Congratulations are in order."
"Thank you, ma'am." Fabian said.
"It is rare that a Kindred of your age is given such a station of authority. You should savor the moment." Savona spoke. "And I do wish to pass on my condolences for the loss of your sire."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Stephen Corwin, alas, found a...concrete ending, did he not?" Fabian tensed a bit at the words from the Prince of Mexico City. "...Fabian?"
"I suppose he did, ma'am." Fabian said. "More so than many find in these nights."
"Indeed so." Savona intoned. There was silence at the end of the line. "I called to offer you a bit of free advice. And it is rare that I give anything for free, so I suggest you listen closely."
"Of course, ma'am." Fabian said.
"It does not do to chase fairy tales." Savona said. "Your sire, rest him, was not a man given to fancies. Those that he did entertain did not save him from his fate. Do well to remember that."
"Yes, ma'am." Fabian said.
"Seattle is becoming quite the interesting place. I do not envy your Prince her position. There are powers rallying against you even as we speak." This worried Fabian a bit even further. "Keep your wits about you. Mind your resources. You may just yet be alive when the dust settles."
". . .yes, ma'am."
"Until we speak again, Fabian." The line went dead from there.
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